


Rooftop Rascality

by ImaMePanda



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: AU-Teenagers, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Bad Decisions, Big Brothers, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Gen, If Josiah's hair weren't already going gray..., Little Brothers, Mischief, Non-Sexual Spanking, Papa Bear Josiah, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Josiah, Protective Nathan, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Spanking, Team as Family, Vin & Ezra Bonding, Young Peacekeepers 'Verse, Younger Ezra, Younger JD, Younger Nathan, Younger Vin, make-shift family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaMePanda/pseuds/ImaMePanda
Summary: When a prank on Ezra leads to Vin and him playing chase all over the rooftops of Four Corners, the two wind up in it deep with a very angry preacher.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to all the awesome folks who read/comment on my stories. I know I'm terrible at responding to comments but I really do love everyone!

Vin eased himself out of his wagon, every movement reminding him that his backside was still dang sore, even after a night's rest. A quick rub, had safely behind protective canvas, had helped and hurt in equal measure. Times like this he got why Ezra wore them fancy trousers, his seemed to rub at his rear right through his long-johns. He looked up and sighed a bit at the sunrise starting to light up the dusty street and boardwalks of Four Corners, wishing going for a ride wasn't nigh on impossible right now. Or that the saloon was open so he could get some breakfast, he thought, as his stomach growled out loud. People would be waking up soon, but it would be ages before anyplace with food was open for business. Stretching a bit, he was trying to decided whether it was worth climbing back into his wagon for the jerky he'd just remembered he had when Vin felt eyes on him. Stifling a groan, he quietly said, “Hey, cowboy.”, without turning around. Chris and Buck had been supposed to be back that afternoon, but obviously their plans had changed, and, from the anger he could feel coming off the gunslinger, he knew.

“Vin.” Chris's stare felt heavy, like it was pushing him down, and, with a reluctance he'd rarely felt when it came to the older man, Vin turned to him, meeting his gaze even though part of him wanted to duck his head. “Talked to Josiah. You want to tell me what the _hell_ you thought you were doing?”

“Weren't thinkin' much atall t' tell ya the truth.” He admitted shamefacedly, hands making their way into the pockets of his hide coat as he spoke.

“I'm damned tempted to tan your hide-”, Vin opened his mouth to protest and Chris cut himself off, pointing a finger in Vin's face, “Yep, I know Josiah already did, that is how pissed I am at what you pulled. Playing tag on the roofs up and down the street? You and Ezra nearly fell off!”

“I know, Chris. I'm sorry.” This time he couldn't help ducking his head, his long hair falling into his face and helping him hide.

“You could have been killed or crippled, Vin. You ever, ever, do anything like that again and I swear to God, I'll take my belt to your bare ass.” Vin's head shot up, eyes wide and searching for Chris's, wanting to see some proof that the man wasn't serious, and got the opposite as hard eyes stared right back into his. Chris had taken his belt to him once before, when he hadn't exactly been cooperative, but he had never, ever, even made him take down his pants. The idea...a slow heat began to crawl up Vin's cheeks and anger stirred in his belly. Josiah'd already tanned him good, he was sorry, weren't no need for Chris to be carrying on so. Ain't no way Vin would let him do that, anyway.

Swallowing, Vin shook his head, and part of him knowing he was signing his own death warrant, said, “Like hell.” Before his next blink, Chris had grabbed his shoulder and jerked him to the side, his other hand coming down in an almighty wallop that had Vin hissing out a foul curse as he twisted his backside out of reach, tears stinging his eyes as fire was added to the deep ache he'd already been feeling. Instead of letting him go Chris jerked him forward now, so they were facing each other, his eyes latching onto Vin's and refusing to let go. Anger blazed at him, and frustration, but also fear, a bone deep fear, a _helpless_ fear, that took all the fight out of Vin instantly. He hadn't meant to do that, to hurt Chris like that. Hadn't truly realized he could. Hell... “M'sorry...I didn't...” Vin trailed off, willing his eyes to say what he couldn't, and it must have helped because the fire went out of Chris's eyes and the tight grip on his shoulder loosened. He didn't look away though, silently asking for a promise that Vin wouldn't do this again, wouldn't risk himself for such a crazy stunt, and Vin willed him to see that he wouldn't, that he'd already learned, and he must have, because Chris was smiling now, a small, relieved smile that Vin gave shyly back.

“C'mon, patrol time.” Vin balked, hesitating at the idea of getting on a horse, especially since it wasn't his turn, and then noticed Chris's badly hidden smirk, the tracker's eyes narrowing as he realized he was being teased. “Town patrol, no riding. Then breakfast.”

“Ya payin'?”

“Damn Tanner, you're cheap.” Which meant yes. Smiling just a little, Vin ambled along next to Chris, hiding a wince as stepping onto the boardwalk stretched and pulled at sore skin. It was gonna be a couple days before his rear was back to normal, was pretty sure he might even have a bruise or two, but he couldn't blame 'Siah. It had been a damn stupid thing to do, and for once it had been him who started it, he hadn't just gotten dragged into Ezra's mischief....

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Vin smirked to himself as he crept along the top of the saloon roof to where his target lay, wedged against the side of the chimney, reading something as he munched idly on an apple. Perfect. He'd never see him coming, and if he was lucky Ezra wouldn't see him leaving either. Teach the gambler to tell Nettie he'd been the only one who picked at the side of the cake-Ezra had been right there with him! And he was the one who took too big a chunk and got them caught, anyway. Leaning over, he made sure he hadn't been noticed and slowly started to pull the bag out of his pocket, carefully loosening the string with one hand as he moved it so it hovered above his friend's head, then grabbed his canteen with the other, loosening the lid with his teeth. Grinning, he slowly tilted the bag-then upending it quickly, choking back a laugh as a mound of flour and sugar dumped out on Ezra's head, puffing out into a cloud around him as he shouted and spluttered in surprise, doing his best to push himself up and see what was going on, and that was when Vin added a splash of water, just enough to make the flour and sugar stick and make a runny mess, not enough to rinse it away. The noise Ezra made now reminded Vin of a cat getting its tail trod on and, with a quick twist of his wrist to get his canteen lid back on,Vin scrambled over to the side of the roof as he grinned to himself. “Tannah! Ah know that was you, get back here you fiend!”

 Vin wasn't quite sure what a fiend was, but it didn't sound very good. He was not expecting when he made the leap from the edge of the saloon roof to the slightly lower one of the undertaker's next door that Ezra would follow after him, landing with a pronounced thump behind him, breathlessly snapping, “Why is there sugah down mah collah?”, as Vin had to scramble out of the way to keep from falling back into him, turning so he was facing his friend in a half-crouch.

“Ya know why.”

“Ah most certainly do not, sah, and Ah assure you Ah will get mah revenge for this indignity.” Ezra moved slowly towards him, not as used to moving around on the roofs as Vin was, and Vin backed away, knowing there was a high woodpile behind him on the side of the building that he could climb down on and...hmm, he bet there was no way Ezra could get to the top of the livery and clinic, but Vin knew he could, had climbed cliff faces sheerer than that more than once.

“Nettie's cake.” Ezra swore, and knowing the woodpile was behind him and sturdy enough to land on, Vin jumped backwards off the roof, landing on the pile with a wobble and immediately shifting his weight to balance himself, before he started to clamber down.

“Vin? Vin!” Ezra sounded outright panicked as he scrambled after him, and Vin, not having meant to scare him, called up to him.

“I'm fine!” A wet, white in patches, and pissed as hell Ezra peered over the edge of the roof, looking at Vin like he wouldn't mind beating the crap out of him.

“Yah uttah clod, Ah thought Ah was goin' to be lookin' at a pile of broken bones!” Uh-uh, when Ezra's accent got deep like that it meant he was about to start swinging, and sure enough, he immediately twisted himself over the side, hanging by his arms and dropping to the top of the pile. Vin, sure his brother had every intention of cracking him in the face, if not for the mess on his clothes, for the scare he'd given him, decided that that livery idea was worth trying and booked it that way, weaving around other people crossing the street.

The supports for the backstairs that connected to the side of the building were the easiest way to get up it quick and Vin started scaling them without a second thought-he was right, not near as hard as going up a cliff, almost like a ladder-hearing Ezra following up after him and increasing his speed, expecting to hear the younger boy climb back down when it got to where there were good sized gaps between the supports, but he must have been determined. It was trickier than he liked getting up on the roof, he'd had to use the railing on Nathan's back porch both to balance and as a foothold, but he'd gotten up. Much as he didn't want Ezra to catch up, he still looked ticked off, Vin paused, hovering in a spot where he thought if Ezra slipped trying to get up where he had he'd be able to grab him and swing him, or knock him, maybe, onto the porch. Vin didn't mind heights at all, but he was suddenly very aware of just how high off the ground they were. Luckily, Ezra had no trouble at all getting on the roof, in fact he went over the divide like it wasn't a problem at all, and Vin backed up, wondering how long it was gonna take him to calm down as Ezra stalked towards him. Now, Vin was about a hundred percent sure Ezra wouldn't deck him up here, too much chance he'd fall, but that didn't keep him from holding his hands up in a peace gesture even as he couldn't help but chuckle at the sticky mess the gambler was, sugar crusting in his hair, and runny drips of flour mixed in with the general cloud of white on his jacket. “C'mon, Ez...”

“Oh no, Mistah Tannah, this is war now,” Ezra was grinning, but it was an evil grin, that made Vin more than a little nervous as he backed up a step or two. Unexpectedly, Ezra darted forward and slapped Vin's shoulder with a cry of, “You're it!”, and was past him before he could react, heading fast as anything towards the other side of the roof, and the luckily narrow gap between the clinic's roof and Mrs. Potter's store, Vin after him with a laugh. Neither of them noticed an annoyed healer coming out of his rooms to see what was going on, or the horrified and then furious expression on his face as he watched them jump from the clinic roof down to the mercantile.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Josiah smiled warmly at Mrs. Potter as they walked down the boardwalk chatting about nothing in particular. It had started out with her asking if he intended to give an Easter service this year, but then they'd moved on to other topics and now were strolling together, slowly heading back in the direction of the Potter's store. She'd only taken off her mourning clothes two months before, but both Ezra and Nathan had been teasing him that she had had her eye on him for awhile now. At first the big man had just ignored it as his brothers having too much time on their hands, but there had been a few days lately that she had sought his company out, and he'd begun to do the same, to her apparent pleasure, and certainly to his. Gloria Potter was a handsome women, strong and smart to carry on in this small town after the murder of her husband and keep their store thriving. He wondered if she would be open to more formal courting gestures or if it would be too soon? Josiah was a romantic at heart, and had made the mistake of moving too fast before.

He was laughing at her tale of a difficult customer, planning to share a tidbit about one of the more eccentric farmers he'd encountered while patrolling on the edges of Four Corner's territory, when he saw Nathan, looking absolutely murderous, storming down the middle of the street, with his head turned up to the roof line, and eyes moving like he was searching for something. He headed past the Potter's store, the hardware store, and the bank, stopping in front of the hotel and turning to face it with his hands on his hips, and Josiah didn't know what was happening, but he was suddenly a hundred percent sure that whatever Nathan was furious about, the younger boys were the cause.

Gloria had seen what he had by now, and they started walking that way, curious, right as Nathan started shouting. “Get down from there right now! Are ya tryin' to kill your fool selves, what the hell do ya'll think your doin', runnin' around the roofs like ya think your wildcats! Ya ain't! I know ya'll can hear me! I'm gonna tan both your hides, see if I don't!” By now Josiah was jogging that direction, turning his head to see just which two boys it was and what they were doing and sucked in a breath as he saw Ezra and Vin chasing each other about on top of the two story roof of the hotel. Good God! Josiah stared, mouth agape for just a moment, before it snapped shut, jaw growing tight with both fear and anger. He opened his mouth to roar, but a firm touch on his arm startled him into stopping, Gloria's voice cutting into his thoughts.

I wouldn't yell too loud, if they startle they could fall.” Seeing the sense in that, he nodded, taking in her tense, anxious face with a glance, before gluing his eyes back on the boys-in time to see Ezra look down and freeze in his tracks as he saw him, and Vin, behind him, try and fail to stop before he crashed into the younger boy. Ezra started to topple forward, but Vin, who'd slipped down on his rear as he tried to stop, snagged him by the back of his belt and jerked him backwards, hard enough that Ezra wound up behind him, and down on the shingles. Unfortunately, that sent Vin sliding forward even faster, towards the edge of the roof, and Josiah moved quick, thinking that if nothing else he could try to break the fall with his own body.

He could hear the prayer coming from his mouth, but it was as though the words were springing from his lips on their own, Josiah having no more control over them than he did the color of the sky. Just as he thought the worst would happen, could see that Vin was having no luck as he desperately tried to grab onto the shingles he was passing, digging his feet in slowing him, but not enough, was terrified that the next service he gave would be a funeral, Ezra, his feet hooked over the ridge that formed when the roof moved from the flat surface of the middle to the sloping edges, swung his belt down, the end tied in a loop and Vin, miracle of miracles, grabbed it tightly, coming to what must have been a bone-jarring stop no more than a foot away from the edge. He watched intently, a fervent prayer of thanks on his lips, as Vin, clearly breathing heavy and shaky from his scare, scooted himself up the roof backwards, one arm through the loop of the belt until he got to the ridge and then he and Ezra were pushing and pulling each other back onto the flat part of the roof, disappearing from view as they tumbled back onto a blessedly flat, stable surface. “Josiah! Did ya see that? Could've killed themselves! What the hell did they think they were doing? I told them to stop!” Nathan was more upset than Josiah had seen him in a long time, face contorting as he shouted and eyes glossy with the beginnings of tears as he turned to him, clearly needing to share his outrage. Ordinarily Nathan was the calm one, the peacemaker, but nearly watching one of his brothers die had simply been too much.

Josiah was too angry to offer him more than a growled, “I saw, Nathan, I saw.” The hotel manager who'd taken over for Maude, Mr. Fitts, had come out to see what the fuss was about and was still gaping at the roof, and Josiah turned to him, demanding, “Do you have a ladder that goes high enough to get to that roof? I need it.” The man just stared at him and Josiah, who was just plain done, took a step towards him. “Do you?”

The man shook himself out of his stupor, “No...I don't think so...” Josiah really felt like hitting something. Not anyone in particular, not the hotel manager, certainly not the two young men he was _never_ going to let out of his sight again, just something.

He turned back to the building, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling up as loud as he could, “Ezra, Vin, are you alright? Answer me, now!” There was silence for a long moment, what felt like an eternity, and then a hand came up, holding a-Josiah stopped, astounded as he realized that the hand was waving a white handkerchief in the air.  _'Lord, grant me the serenity...'_ That would be Ezra, and sure enough, a second later, another hand was reaching up and jerking the hand holding the handkerchief down again, and then Vin's head was peaking over so he could see him.

“We're fine, 'Siah!” The last time Vin had told Josiah he was fine he'd had a bullet graze on the outside of his thigh that was still bleeding, so he'd take that with a heaping tablespoon of salt, but at least it didn't seem like either of them was likely to be going into shock.

“You stay put and wait for me and Nathan to come up, you hear me?” Vin waved at him and then disappeared again, and if those two didn't do as he'd said...he looked over to Mr. Fitts, who was muttering unhappily to himself. “Is there anyway for me to get up on that roof and get my boys down safely? An access point in the hotel? My ladder won't reach that high, and I'm worried they could have hurt themselves.” If Ezra's shoulder hadn't gone at least slightly out of joint after being jolted with a good chunk of Vin's body weight that would almost be worthy of being called another miracle. Vin had to have cut his hands up, trying to grab at the shingles while he was sliding like that, and could easily have hurt his back with that sudden stop. That they both had to have been scared out of their minds went without saying. Once he'd made sure they were alright... _then_ he would kill them.

“My roof...look at those loose shingles. I can't believe this, after the damage that we had to repair when I took over, this is just too much!” The man didn't shout so much as bellow, reminding Josiah disturbingly of a hippopotamus, not an animal he was fond of. He sure didn't like the man being so concerned about his roof he couldn't even bother to answer his questions. They'd pay for any damage, but right now there were more important things to worry about than shingles.

“I don't give a damn about your shingles.” Disgusted, he turned away, calling to the small crowd that had gathered to watch the show, half aware that Nathan was now lecturing the man about his priorities, but not actually listening, “Anybody have a ladder that can reach the second story?” Michael Johanson from the hardware store stepped forward, raising his hand as though he were a schoolboy.

“I do, out back of the store, but it's a mite long for me to carry by myself.” Josiah nodded, but before he could step forward to go with him the bartender from Digger Dan's, Paul, said he'd go and then they were both jogging that way. He couldn't say he wasn't relieved, as ludicrous as it was, the idea of walking away from the roof line made him more than a little nervous.

Lord, he was going to tan those boys. Josiah couldn't believe the reckless disregard they'd shown for their very lives. It was one thing to risk your life for a cause, for something greater than one's self (though the older peacekeepers did their very best to keep the younger members of their family out of any direct danger), it was another to nearly throw it away for a moment of foolishness.

“Oh my...”, Gloria was peering down the alley next to the hotel, her head shaking with disapproval at whatever she saw, and knowing he wasn't going to like it, and hoping he was wrong, Josiah looked as well.

No. He wasn't. Vin and Ezra were walking towards the front of the alley, neither looking too much worse for wear, but that didn't change the fact that he had  _told_ them to wait for them. Marching that direction, a growl in his throat, the boys froze, and he could see Ezra getting ready to run, the slight depression of his Achilles heels as he prepared to spring away. Only Vin, showing the first bit of sense Josiah had seen from him so far, reached out to stop him, encircling his wrist with a loose hand. As he got nearer Vin began to look like he'd wished he'd run after Ezra, not stopped him. First things first, when he was close enough to do so Josiah reached out and grabbed them, pulling them both forward into a huge bear hug and squeezing them close, ignoring the squawk of protest from the gambler and the embarrassed mumble from the tracker. Finally, he stepped back and regarded the two of them with a hard, serious, look on his face. “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him. The two of you have been very foolish today, very foolish indeed, and I  _will_ be correcting that.” The wincing, guilty expressions when they heard that didn't do as much to calm him down as they usually did. 

“Foolish is right,” Nathan snorted it, coming to stand next to Josiah, his arms crossed across his chest as he glared at the younger men, “The way the two of you were carrying on I'm surprised you got brains in your head at all. Either of ya hurt? No lies, now.”

Josiah saw the look the two exchanged and before Ezra could out get more than, “No-”, he interrupted.

“I don't think we should take any chances, the two of you get up to the clinic with your brother and you let him look you over.”

Neither of them moved, even when Nathan made a shepherding gesture with his arms, trying to get them to start walking towards the clinic, Vin grumbling, “'Siah, we're fine.”

“ _Now!_ ”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Ezra tried not to flinch back at Josiah's roar, not sure he'd ever seen the big man this upset before, but was unable to prevent it entirely. Vin had been right, they should have maintained their presence on the roof until they were fetched, but he simply couldn't. It had felt like his nerves were making his skin crawl right off his person. He watched carefully as Josiah squeezed his eyes closed, drawing in one deep breath and then another, and finally said in a voice that was strained with the calm he was forcing on it, “Go with Nathan. Go with Nathan, right this minute, boys. I'll be up to get you later.” He was more than convincing, as Ezra abruptly realized a portion of the reason Josiah was sending them to the clinic was because he knew he needed an opportunity to calm his temper, and they would be wise to give it to him. Nathan didn't give them any choice in the matter, anyway, his hand clamping down around the back of Ezra's neck, a quick glance showing he had done the same to Vin, in such a way as would have required him to resort to violence, if a minor amount, in order to make his escape.

“You heard the man, get your behinds moving towards the clinic.” He started walking, fairly fast, and it was keep up with him or stumble repeatedly over your own feet. Ordinarily that was the kind of thing Mr. Jackson would avoid doing, he was always careful with their physical well-being even when it came to something that would be unlikely to cause injury, no matter the force of his ire. Ezra's stomach sunk even farther than the nearly underwater level it had already been resting at-and one often had to dig quite deep to find water in the desert. He sent them up the clinic stairs one at a time, in front of him, with an admonishment that, “If ya even think of going anywhere besides right in that clinic door and staying put, I'll light a fire in ya'lls backsides 'fore Josiah gets a chance, you hear me? Upstairs, right now,” and followed so close behind Ezra as they went up he found himself wondering just where the man thought they were going to run to. Back to the rooftops to live out their days as fugitives from Josiah's palm?

They trudged their way up the stairs and into the clinic with nary a problem, and Nathan told Vin to sit down on the cot, in a tone that had the tracker doing so immediately, and then to Ezra's discomfiture and mortification steered him over to the far side of the room, into the space inbetween his desk and the wall, and stood him so he was facing into the corner. Like he was an oversized and stroppy toddler! There were some indignities a gentlemen simply did not countenance, and with a, “Mistah Jackson, really!”, Ezra attempted to back a step away and turn around, and was stopped midway through his backwards pace, Nathan's hand once more clamping around the nape of his neck.

“Uh-uh, no, now ain't the time to argue with me, Ezra. Now's the time for you to think about what you just did and how foolish it was. Keep your nose in that corner, now, 'cause you ain't gonna like it if you don't.” Ezra opened his mouth again, because regardless of Nathan's statement or the dead serious tone with which he spoke, this seemed like a fine time to argue-a most appropriate time if it prevented this outrage from being inflicted on his person-but Vin spoke up in his place before he could compose a proper rejoinder.

“Nate, that's right embarrassin'.”, Vin complained, “An' it ain't fair t' make Ez do it an' not me.” Surprised and gratified at Vin speaking up for him when it would likely only increase the castigation his brother would be facing himself, Ezra fell silent, waiting to see how this scene would conclude.

“Well, don't you worry none, because soon as I'm done checking you over you'll be switching places and get your own turn in the corner.” A tiny spluttering noise came from Vin, and then nothing, and Ezra really did not blame him, it was clearly the wisest course to follow. It had been a worthy attempt, but there was clearly no getting out of this. A small amount of relief at the fact that he would not be the only one afflicted with this, this... _dishonor_ was joined by a slightly larger amount of guilt for that relief and Ezra frowned severely at the corner in front of him, grateful that his face was not visible to the other occupants of the clinic. He felt himself being pushed back into the small place, and didn't fight back physically, but was unable to prevent his mouth from running.

“This is an absurd and undignified way-”

“No talking in the corner, Ezra.”

“Nath-”, a smack, just hard enough to sting like the dickens, landed square in the middle of Ezra's backside, the healer's name caught off by a sharp and surprised inhale of air.

“I said no talking.” Feeling both shamefaced and rather hard done by, Ezra clamped his mouth shut as he tried to will the blush that was crawling up his neck to retreat. Staring hard at the somewhat roughly textured boards in front of his face, he listened to the sounds of Nathan moving around the clinic, gathering what he thought he'd need to patch up Vin's hands and whatever else might be ailing him, while trying not to think of what awaited them both once Nathan had finished his duties. He himself had what felt like a scrape on his back, right below his shoulder blade, and his bad shoulder felt a bit sore, but it hadn't popped out. It seemed overall as though Vin had the worst of it. Ezra had noticed that his hands were quite scraped up, with a couple deep and bloody scratches, when Vin was starting down from the roof, having insisted on going first if they were not remaining in place as they had been told.

A flash of Josiah's face mid-roar came unbidden to his mind, and he swallowed, still certain he had never seen him quite so incensed before, or what the final consequences of that rage would be.

But he had embraced them before he even raised his voice, and faced with further defiance he had _only_ raised his voice in anger, not his hand. Ezra was truly starting to believe he never would. 

“Soak your hands in this.” Deciding that he'd much rather turn his attention outward, on the others in the room, rather than inward at his own thoughts, Ezra pushed his contrition and apprehension away, doing his best to focus solely on the scene that was playing out behind him.

“Aw, Nate...”, Vin sounded surprisingly reluctant and Ezra fought the urge to peer around and see just what vile concoction Nathan was ordering him to submerge his hands into. “Can' I just wash 'em?”

“No, Vin, ya can't. There's only a measure of carbolic in there, to three measures water and herbs. It'll sting, but it ain't gonna kill you. Bad enough some of those cuts might be from roofing nails, maybe rusty roofing nails, I'm not gonna risk you getting an infection. They're gonna be cleaned properly, and the first step is for you to soak them cuts.” There was a pause where Ezra couldn't tell whether Vin was complying or not. The lack of stimulation had him tracing the different cracks in the boards in front of him with his eyes, many of them wide and spidering out until they connected to others, the weathering over the years having allowing the moisture of spring and the dry weather of summer to push the natural fibers away from each other and weaken them some. “Alright, now the other one too.” There was an audible hiss from Vin as he submerged his second appendage in the liquid, Ezra wondering if it was the combination, having both in the solution simultaneously, that wrung it from him, or if the second hand was injured worse than the other, or both.

“Goddamned weasel humpin', sumofabitchin' shit stings like a damned...” Vin was half-hissing as he spoke, his words trailing off to a whisper Ezra couldn't quite make out the gist of as they continued.

“You got a mouth on ya don't ya?” Nathan said, sounding mostly disapproving and a tiny bit amused-Ezra had become quite an expert at hearing the nuances in Nathan's voice, as it was the best way to tell when the man was listening to his sche-proposals with amused patience, rather than irritated tolerance- “For a second there I thought you were talking about me, was starting to get a little annoyed. Still reckon you might wanna watch your mouth.”

“Wouldn't. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.” It should have been dismissive, but Nathan's tone wasn't, instead a calm agreement. “Move your fingers around and flex your palms. I want to make sure that gets deep into those two big scratches, it'll help get any slivers out too, won't take me as long to clean them.”

“Ain't this doing that?” Vin's tone made it clear that if it wasn't, he was not pleased and Nathan's voice wasn't quite as calm as it had been when he answered, _his_ displeasure leaking out at the edges.

“Some of it, but not enough. Turn your hands over, and swish 'em through the water a couple more times.” There was the noise of water swishing a minor amount and then Nathan patting hands dry as Vin tried to cloak the fact that it was causing him discomfort by grumbling about mother hens. Ezra shifted back and forth a small amount, wanting to rock on his heels, but not sure if it would cause annoyance if it was detected. The sugar in his hair and down the back of his collar had melted both from the water thrown on him and the heat of the day and both it and the drying flour itched. Not severely, just enough to irritate him and make this whole situation slightly more wretched.

Still fighting the urge to fidget, Ezra's mind began to wonder, despite his efforts to push the subject away and turn his focus elsewhere, by how large of an amount they had increased Mr. Sanchez's ire, or rather, how much more severe their inevitable chastisement would be due to their hasty and ill thought out action. An action that had occurred due to _him._

Of course, as none of the events leading up to that would have occurred if Vin hadn't decided to interrupt what had been a rather enjoyable and relaxed afternoon with that juvenile prank, Ezra was not going to allow himself to feel too remorseful. The bulk of the blame lay with Vin...though Ezra doubted it would be wise to suggest that to either of the older peacekeepers so annoyed with him.

...albeit, it was a juvenile prank, yes, but, he found himself acknowledging, somewhat unwillingly, clever and ingeniously simple in the components it took to complete.

And possibly, justified. It had not been his intention to pin the entirety of the cake incident on Vin, but Mrs. Wells had zeroed in on first the cake they'd been picking at-and despite Vin's later claims, it had not been him who took too large a chunk and made it so apparent the sweet bread had been tampered with-and next Vin who had not only still been standing far nearer the cake platter than had been wise, but had had cake crumbs on his collar. When she'd asked Ezra, who had been at the sink, having gone back to peeling the apples for the pie she'd promised them if they completed a list of tasks around the small homestead, curtly if he'd been involved, it had been an instinctive and immediate response to deny it. Initially he had foreseen this spelling out his doom, as the idea of being able to actually succeed at telling a falsehood to  _Mrs. Wells_ was something Ezra had thought was beyond even his skills. Yet, after an immediate appraisal of his face she had dismissed him from the room, and at that point the gambler had decided this was something to take to his grave, particularly as he had heard the sound of a wooden spoon connecting soundly with the tracker's buckskins while he made his retreat. 

Clearly, he really was truly talented at the art of the con, but that had still felt about as risky as playing with a mountain lion. 

Possibly, that moved quite a lot of the aforementioned blame to his shoulders, at least he could not say that Vin had started it anymore than he had.

His book had fallen by the wayside as he'd scrambled after his incorrigible compatriot and he rather regretted that now, and hoped it would not have come to any damage by the time he was able to retrieve it. That copy of Ivanhoe was old and well-worn, a gift from Mother when he had likely been a few years too young for it, and well he could replace it easily enough by requesting it through one of Mrs. Potter's many  catalogs , it would not be the same as his old copy that he'd managed to hang onto throughout so many years and destinations.

A muffled sound of pain pulled him out of his reverie and he found himself wincing for Vin in the second time in as many weeks. “There. That's all the slivers out of your left hand, now stick your right hand by the lantern and we'll get it done too.”

“Weren't much a 'em in this one, Doc, ya don'-”

“ _Vin._ ” It wasn't _quite_ a growl, but the scolding tone was pronounced and obvious.

The mumbled and slightly apologetic, “Fine, here,” that came from his brother a few seconds later, said while Ezra assumed he was surrendering the vied for appendage, was really the only practical option open to him.

The room fell mostly silent, nothing but the sounds of breathing, shifting, and the occasional muffled curse from Vin or admonishment from Nathan for the younger man to hold still to distract him. Possibly because it was easy to see that it would not be long before it would be his turn to allow Nathan to examine him for injuries, and after that they would merely be waiting for Mr. Sanchez to collect them, Ezra's mind began to switch back to the mind-boggling quantity of difficulty he'd mired himself in. He had no doubt both Vin and him were in for the tanning of their lives, but various possibilities of just how that scene might conceivably play out, some more feasible than others, were wanting to run through his mind, no matter how much Ezra sought to turn his mind in other directions.

A particularly old and cranky second cousin had employed a switch several times while Ezra was with him, and well he couldn't say it had been entirely unjustified (at thirteen Ezra had been accustomed to far more freedom than Bernard had been willing to extend him, and far more comfortable with the neighborhood's saloons than the man had permitted, though he still thought he had not truly been the trial and nuisance his cousin had claimed), it was far from an experience he wanted to repeat. The gambler had a certain amount of confidence that the preacher would not be that severe, even if in this circumstance he was not sure he would be able to develop any sort of explanation that could possibly satisfy the man. That he would ask for and expect one, at least a confession and admittance of wrongdoing, was already certain.

Josiah had never tanned him with anything but the flat of his hand, but on an occasion where he had not curbed his tongue to the man's satisfaction while being punished Ezra had been informed that Josiah's toolbox was not so far away his ruler could not be retrieved and put to appropriate use. The threat had been more than an effective deterrent to silence him, but the young man doubted it could have the sting of a willow switch. Though knowing if they had pushed the preacher to that point he would probably use nothing more severe than that ruler, which was quite thick and sturdy, was cold comfort at best.

“Alright Vin, you're done, time to switch places with Ezra.” Ezra, needing no prompting to vacate the cramped and stifling corner, turned and immediately headed towards his brothers, taking note of the bandages over the worst of the cuts on Vin's hands. That might earn the older boy a measure of sympathy from Mr. Sanchez, but it also might remind the man of the risks they'd taken. Ezra would give it even odds on either reaction. Vin, to the contrary of Ezra, now waiting for him to vacate the cot and allow him to sit down in his stead, was balking at the idea, not verbally, at least not yet, but his mouth had a whit of mulishness to it and the tracker's movements were slow and reluctant as he pushed himself off the bed. Nathan, no fool, stood and followed after him as he began the trek across the room, only taking the time to ensure Ezra actually settled himself onto the cot.

As though he would imperil himself by aiming to escape at this late juncture-if he were to do so Ezra had no doubt he would open the clinic door in time to see Josiah block his escape, and doom himself to far worse than he already had coming.

“Nate, this is dumb. I ain't no baby.” Vin had stopped before reaching his destination and turned to face Nathan. Ezra couldn't see the healer's face, but the way he straightened, shoulder's back and head high, indicated how peeved he was getting, though his voice was simply a no-nonsense order.

“Nope, and I never said you were. Pretty hard for a baby to stand in the corner, but you, you shouldn't have no trouble at all. Go on now.” As Ezra watched, a bit more fascinated with the proceedings than he wanted to admit, Vin almost seemed to give in, stubborn look wavering, but then he straightened out of his habitual slump and shook his head. “Really? That's how it's going to be? After what you just pulled?”

Before Vin could respond the clinic door was pushed open and Josiah's bulk filled the doorway, frowning at the scene he saw in front of him as everyone's heads swiveled in his direction. Ezra was supremely grateful that he was doing exactly as he had been told, and that Mr. Sanchez had not been present during his own brief attempt at rebellion. “Having some trouble, Nathan?” The last of the fight had gone out of Vin when he saw Josiah, and before Nathan could open his mouth Vin was turning and trudging into the corner, apparently resigned.

“Nope, I think we've got it all settled now.”

Josiah, to Ezra's stupefaction, chuckled-though on second thought, it was not a particular  _happy_ sounding chuckle. “Yes, I can see that you do. Clever idea, might have to use it myself.” That, Ezra thought, hiding his reaction best he could, sounded like distinctly the last practice he wanted the preacher to adopt. 

This was going to be an extremely long day.


	4. Chapter 4

As he slumped a little, wishing he weren't so sure he deserved this, Vin realized he hated standing in the corner, being trapped in the little cubby of space, even more than he hated being trapped in the clinic. He didn't mind visiting the clinic, Nathan was good for a quiet game of checkers if he wasn't too busy, but when he had to be there, when he was bleeding and miserable, and just wanted to be left the hell alone, but he couldn't be, that was when he hated it.

Hated being trapped anywhere, really. Could be his favorite place in the world, and the second someone was making him stay there, forcing him, he wouldn't be able to stand it. The difference between that suffocating, overcrowded orphanage he'd spent a few years in before he managed to run away and the freedom he'd had when he was with first his Indian family, and then after-well, it had made sure that he would never be okay with being confined.

'Course, once he was free from the corner he had to face Josiah, and he didn't want to do that anymore than he wanted to stay here. He'd just been trying to have a bit of fun, really, hadn't expected things to turn out like they had, but he knew the preacher had every right to be as mad as he was. It had been damn stupid to be running around on the rooftops like that, Vin moved, and even leapt and jumped about on the roofs during gun battles, the height letting him pick off the people that were the greatest danger to his brothers, but he paid attention to his footwork at the same time as he was looking out for bullets flying at him, there weren't no excuse for how careless he'd been that day.

“Ezra, what in the world- _why_ are you all sticky?” Vin cringed a little at Nathan's question, wondering how Ezra would respond.

“Ah may have had an unfortunate encountah with a quantity of sugar and flour earliah.”

“...never mind, I don't want to know.” Nathan muttered, with that exasperated tone that meant he was going to start complaining they were making him old before his time before too long.

“Well, I do. Does that have something to do with why you and Vin were up on the roof?” Josiah's voice was calm, but deadly serious, with none of the humor Vin could usually hear when they'd gotten into mischief.

“Ah fear that Ah must plead the fifth on that particular mattah.” Lord, Ezra could be as bull-headed as a mule when he wanted to be. Vin knew he'd been getting stubborn himself a minute or two ago, but it hadn't been with _Josiah_.

“Ezra Patrick, this isn't a courtroom, and it isn't the time for you to get smart either. Trust me, son, you've already incriminated yourself plenty. You directly disobeyed me by climbing down off that roof, do you want to add to that by refusing to answer my question?” The rumble that started low in Josiah's chest was in full force now, and Vin was certain he could hear Ezra shifting nervously in his seat.

“...No, sah. Yes, that was one of the factors that led to our ascent to the roof.” Vin waited in the silence that followed, wishing he could see everyone's faces, see the reaction instead of standing here wondering about it.

“I think a big part of the talk we have today is going to need to be on both where it's inappropriate to pull pranks and to get revenge for being pranked, isn't it?” It wasn't natural, the way Josiah could take a couple pieces of something, look at a man, and suddenly he had everything figured out.

“Ah can find no errors in your deductive reasoning.” Ezra's voice was soft, subdued in a way it hadn't been when he was talking just a minute ago, leaving Vin again to wish that his view wasn't limited to the wood planks in front of him.

He'd known when they climbed down from the roof that they weren't doing anything but getting themselves in deeper, but Ezra had been starting to panic, worried, Vin thought, that he'd taken things too far this time. He hadn't actually said that, but, hell it was something Vin figured they all worried about sometimes, maybe even the older guys, even though it wasn't gonna happen. Especially not with Ezra and Josiah, the preacher must have called Ezra 'son' at least a half dozen times a day, had basically adopted him.

Vin had nearly been adopted once, after those soldiers had supposedly 'rescued' him from his Indian family and dumped him in another orphanage. A rich, religious, family who'd heard of the boy found with the Indian tribe had decided it was their job to 'civilize' him, to 'save his soul', but since they seemed more determined to convince him there was something wrong with it, that he was tainted, he'd decided not to stick around.

Had actually been adopted once, even if those exact words hadn't been used, in a big ceremony with everyone watching. Had had a family, but those damn soldiers hadn't cared about that. They'd hit his mother, hard enough to knock her to the ground, when he'd been crying for her not to let them take him, and all she'd done was move forward a step. So he'd dried his tears and hardened his face, done his best to look brave, because it was the only thing he could do. Things would have gotten ugly, had already been getting ugly, and the only thing that Vin could do to stop anymore bloodshed was go with them quietly. He knew that sometimes children taken in by tribes had been treated as slaves, or little better than, but his people hadn't believed in that, he'd been treated well, _loved_ , but no one had cared.

Hell, he didn't know why he was thinking about that. Usually when he thought about back then, which wasn't often, he tried to think on the good times.

He wondered what they'd think of this new family he'd found. Wondered what his Momma would think. Vin didn't really remember what she looked like anymore, or what her voice had sounded like, hadn't for years, but he thought he remembered enough of _her_ to know she'd like them. 

Probably wouldn't like what he'd done any better than 'Siah or Nate. Vin shifted slightly, a bittersweet smile stealing over his face, as a snatch of old memory came back to him. About a month before the fever had taken her they'd made a trip to the general store in town, where he'd crept over to the old men jawing around the pickle barrel on the porch, and, probably because they knew he was listening to their tall tales, they'd spun a silly story about a boy who learned to fly by sticking old chicken feathers in his shirt. Momma hadn't been very happy when she found Vin on top of the chicken coop the next day, covered in feathers and flapping his arms like he was getting ready to fly off.

When he'd been falling, he'd been scared, hell, he'd been plain terrified. But he'd been that scared before, more than once, when he'd thought he was gonna be hanged, or crushed in a buffalo stampede, or shot in a way he wouldn't be getting up from. When he'd thought Ezra was falling, and falling because Vin had just had to pull that prank, and get them running around the rooftops...that was worse than when he'd had to let those so-called bounty hunters take him out of town, worse than anything he could think of. Truth was, when he'd reached out to grab him, throw him back, Vin had realized it was gonna start him sliding faster, and known he might not be able to stop. But not doing it, letting Ezra fall, letting him _die_ , hadn't been an option, no matter what might happen to Vin because of it. When Ezra had swung his belt down, shouting for Vin to grab hold, he'd made eye contact with his little brother and seen the same thing in his eyes, even if Vin's weight knocked him loose, he couldn't not do it.

He reckoned maybe it was things like that Josiah meant when the preacher was talking about family and destiny and how they'd all been meant to find each other, how they all needed each other. He didn't figure many people were really willing to do things like that, whatever they might say, but his brothers were different. They were men to ride the river with.

If he'd been that scared, him and Ezra both, Vin knew it had to have been even worse for Josiah and Nathan who couldn't do anything but stand there and watch, waiting and helpless. None of it would have happened if it hadn't been for him, all he'd had to do was not climb up the damn side of the clinic, or not chase after Ezra when he'd tagged him.

Yeah. He'd been acting the fool before that, but right then, when things were definitely getting more than a bit out of hand,that had been his chance to say it was enough, that Ezra won and they should stop, but he hadn't. He was supposed to be the older one, supposed to look out for the younger boys, but sometimes that was harder said than done, and sometimes...well, sometimes the two or three years he had on Ezra seemed like a lot, and sometimes it seemed like nothing at all. But he knew they looked up to him, Ezra and JD both and that meant he had no business leading his brother into the kind of trouble he had today. He'd be lucky if the preacher didn't strip the hide right off him, and right about now he felt low enough that he figured he more than deserved it. He could've gotten Ezra killed.

The door burst open then, Vin whirling around, expecting trouble, before his brain could register the voice talking a million miles a minute into the surprised silence of the clinic, “Caleb Forrester said Vin fell off the hotel roof! Was there a gunfight? Is he okay? Where is he?” JD's frantic sweep of the clinic must have missed Vin tucked into the corner by Nathan's desk, because his eyes were widening in horror as Vin stepped forward, the boy breathing out, “He isn't...”

“I'm right here, JD, an' just fine.” He was going to break Cal Forrester's nose for scaring his little brother like that.

JD sagged in relief, and then, while looking Vin up and down like he was checking for missing limbs and still a little shaky, said,“You're sure you're okay?” Josiah had stood up by now, crossing to JD and putting a hand on his shoulder as Vin was nodding.

“Both your brothers gave us a scare, but they didn't actually fall and neither of them are hurt bad. Nathan checked them over, didn't you Nathan?” Nathan nodded, JD moving his gaze first to him and then to Ezra, looking him up and down too.

“Yep, and Josiah's right, they weren't hurt bad and they're all fixed up now, anyway.”

“Okay. But-jeez, what were you guys doing up there in the first place?” Hearing his little brother ask that question with total disbelief, like he couldn't believe they'd been that stupid, had Vin's cheeks flushing and his head hanging all over again.

“I just asked that question myself,” Josiah's voice was dry, but serious, “and since Nathan is done with both of them, I think that's something me and your brothers are going to go discuss. Before all this happened me and Nathan were planning to have a checkers game, think you could take my place?” 

Vin took a quick glance at Nathan's face, hiding a smile at the flash of confusion that was quickly schooled into a welcoming smile as JD shrugged and said, “Sure.” There hadn't been any checkers game, Josiah just knew JD was still excitable after that scare and didn't want him to be alone.

“Alright,” Josiah let go of JD and suddenly Vin could see how upset he still was, “You two, over here, now.” Huh. Right about now that corner didn't seem half bad.

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

Josiah stayed close behind his boys as they reached the bottom of the stairs and began moving along the boardwalk. They'd only gone a few yards down it, far enough along that Josiah was planning to steer them across the street and over to the church when Inez and Mary came up behind them, Josiah sticking his head over his shoulder to see who belonged to the feet clattering towards them and almost wincing himself when he saw the expressions on their faces. Not that the boys didn't deserve it, and not that the ladies didn't have every right to be upset. Mary all but considered Ezra her little brother, and during that mess with that Don Paulo mocoso Vin's protectiveness had very much endeared him to Inez. Slowing to a stop, he intoned, “Boys,” softly, and, reluctantly, it clear that they'd noticed the women too and weren't looking forward to their reactions, they followed suit. “Evening, ladies.” 

“Good evening, Josiah,” said Mary, somewhat prim and stiff in her displeasure, “We hate to interrupt, but we were hoping to talk to the boys for a few moments.”

“I don't want to talk,” said Inez, eyes flashing, “I want to smack esos muchachos estúpidos upside their cabezas. Maybe then their brains will start working again.” Josiah hid a smile as Vin shrank a little at her words and Ezra did his very best to keep from shrinking, eyes raising in defiance. Until Inez directed her attention solely at him, and Ezra, knowing that was a battle he would not win, dropped his gaze a little. 

“If they scared you even half as bad as they scared me, I imagine you have the right to say your piece.” He nodded at them, and took a step back, leaving the passage to the boys clear. Considering he'd hugged the two before anything else himself Josiah wasn't very surprised that rather than smacking either of the boys right off the bat Inez stepped forward and put a hand to each of their cheeks, speaking quietly, but fiercely, Josiah noticing that her sentences were turning to Spanish at the ends. Ezra understood her just fine, but while Vin could get along well in Spanish, Josiah thought the rapid back and forth between the two was throwing him a little, though he was doing his best not to show it. Seeming to wind down, Inez surprised both the boys and him when she pulled away the hands that had been cupping their cheeks and gave them each a solid box on the ear. Vin immediately hung his head, though he looked up at Inez somewhat warily, wheras Ezra tried to look indignant and failed miserably.

“You will never do anything so foolish again, will you?”

The, “No, ma'am,”s came out in unison and with a satisfied nod Inez moved to the side, letting a Mary who had been doing her best to look more patient than she was get her turn in. Mary didn't talk to them both at the same time, stepping directly in front of Ezra and wasting no time as she glared at him.

“Do you realize the types of debilitating injuries you could have gotten?” Ezra, knowing when it was time to cut his losses, admitted that he did, shamefaced. “What if you'd lost one of your limbs-how are you going to play your card games minus a hand?” Mary might not much like just how fond of gambling Ezra was, but she knew where to go to make her point, if Ezra's sudden loss of color meant anything. “You're lucky I don't turn you over a knee myself, and if you do something like that again I just might.” The boy blanched, clearly not sure what to say to that, but Mary just turned and moved to Vin, who looked like he wished the earth would swallow him whole. “Don't think for one minute that that doesn't go for you too.” 

“No, ma'am.”

“I had a friend who took a bad fall in college, a man who loved the outdoors nearly as much as you. Now he is confined to a rolling chair, and can't go anywhere without assistance.” Vin shuddered, and Josiah found himself impressed, though he supposed running the newspaper would've given her experience in reading people and seeing their weaknesses. “I don't want anything like that happening to either of you,” Mary's voice had softened and she was addressing both of them now, and judging from the way Ezra and Vin were both regarding her with quite a bit of guilt, she'd been effective. Mary stepped back after another moment, nodding at Josiah as if to say 'all yours'.

Inez announced that she needed to get back to the saloon, “I left Simon in charge, there might not be a saloon left if I'm not back soon.”

“And I need to run some errands before the day is half over.” The two women peeled themselves away with some reluctance, the boys seeming like they weren't certain whether they were glad about it or not. After all, Josiah thought, just a hint of a smile crossing his face, the sooner they got to the church, the sooner they were in deep trouble.

Josiah gave the boys a gentle shove to to a shoulder each, waiting for them to start down the porch steps, “The hour of judgement is here, my brothers.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Ezra sat slightly apart from Vin on the small bench that served for seating in the preacher's bedroom, the man across from them on the bed, listening in agitation and disbelief as Vin recounted the 'events' that had led to their foolish rooftop hi-jinks. He couldn't understand what his brother was doing, or the reasons behind it, and an earlier attempt to put his word in and correct a falsity had had Josiah shushing him and telling him he'd have his turn. Ezra's eye moved to his guardian, hoping to see some sign that his uncanny way of discerning the real meaning in one's speech was seeing through the tracker, but Josiah's face was merely solemn and attentive, giving each of Vin's words its due. Except none of them, Ezra thought, his outrage making his thoughts a bit courser than he might otherwise have expressed, was worth a plug nickel! Finally, when Ezra thought he could take no more and must leap from his seat in protest, Vin's narrative came to an end, the older boy saying quietly, “An' that's how it all happened, 'Siah.”

Josiah nodded and turned his head the small bit he needed to focus on Ezra, “And do you agree with your brother's version, Ezra?”

Given his chance to talk, the words fairly burst out of Ezra, “No, sah, I certainly do not agree! It is impossible to agree with such falsehoods-Ah followed Vin up to the clinic roof of mah own volition, and Ah started the senseless game of chase that has you so incensed. Furthermore, it was mah allowing Vin to take the sole blame for a shared misdeed that incited him to such a caper in the first place, and,” Ezra quieted here, guilt eclipsing his indignation for the first time, as he realized he hadn't given Vin much reason to believe he would not allow his brother to take the blame, “Ah will not be doing so again.”

Looking like he wasn't sure whether to be proud or pained, Josiah said, voice still solemn, “Thank you for your honesty, Ezra-and Vin, while I appreciate you trying to protect your brother, I hope you don't think you have to protect him from me.”

Ezra fought to hide his surprise at this, as Vin shook his head firmly and mumbled, “No, 'Siah.” He had been so shocked and than incensed at Vin taking all the blame on himself that the why of it had not had time to fully percolate in his brain, other than some unclear notion that his brother must have thought him dishonorable to assume he'd allow Vin to bear such slander, even if he was the one perpetrating the crime. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, part of him pleased that Vin wanted to protect him, but mostly embarrassed that he thought it necessary, as well as somewhat offended on Josiah's part. Despite his own earlier thoughts, he now found himself feeling certain that Vin should have known better.

Josiah stared at Vin a little longer, as though expecting more, then nodded slightly, “Well, I think I have a pretty good idea of what actually happened now, between the two of you, and it seems to me you both are equally to blame. Though,” his gaze switched over to Ezra with his next words, “you and I have already had a discussion on the dangers of rooftops, haven't we?”

Ezra kept his face steady, despite the fact that that remembrance had been kept at bay until Josiah's words, though only with a strong will, “That was a notably different situation, Mistah Sanchez, and very early in our acquaintance.” It had been the first time Josiah had disciplined him beyond lecturing and sermonizing at him, and, as he'd all but goaded the man into it, it was a highly unpleasant memory for more than one reason.

“It was. And I know I was partly to blame there.” Mr. Sanchez admitting that, just as it had the first time, made Ezra want to squirm in shame, though he desisted. “But that doesn't change the fact that we've had it, Ezra.” He managed to nod, not sure what else to say. Josiah's gaze switched back to Vin, and just as serious, said, “So, I think any extra blame you're trying to stick yourself with because you're older, is pretty well-balanced by the fact that your brother already got in trouble for something similar, son.” It wasn't a question, but still held the weight of a required answer, and Vin gave a reluctant, unsure, shrug. Then Josiah just stared at them both again, and though he certainly would make no protestations against it, Ezra found that he was rather tired of being examined like he were an obscure passage in one of the preacher's books. “I have to fetch something. I won't be even a minute, and I expect both of you to be sitting where I left you, understand?”

Feeling dreadfully sure that Josiah was going to fetch the ruler he'd threatened to admonish him with once before, Ezra nevertheless gave the expected, “Yes, sah,” in response, Vin's, “Yessir,” sounding at nearly the same time.

“Good.” The preacher got to his feet, giving them one last warning look when he reached the door, which he left open, before heading into the church proper.

Vin had been hissing his name intermittently at him while Ezra was giving his explanation, and when Josiah had disappeared his brother snapped in Ezra's ear, voice quiet, but sharp, “Dammit, Ezra, why'd ya do that?”

“Ah refuse to allow you to martyr yourself,” he said it in a low undertone, though he held no illusion that Mr. Sanchez did not know they would be talking in his absence.

“I didn't say nothin' that wasn't true, I did follow ya up on the roof an' pranked ya, an' then scared ya so ya chased after me.” Vin sounded aggrieved, and Ezra found himself frustrated because he didn't understand his feeling so at all.

“But it was mah actions that caused you to take revenge in the first place, and mah choice to follow you, and you told the tale as though you had somehow forced me to participate. Ah promise you, sah, that Ah am fully capable of deciding on mah own paths, and have learned long ago not to follow othah's down them blindly.” Or perhaps he did, at least in a vague way, understand Vin's grievance, as his own feelings along that line rose to the surface with his last sentence.

“I'm older than ya, Ezra, an' I'm supposed t' know better, supposed t' look out for ya. And instead...” Vin shook his head and turned his face from Ezra, who had a vague and slightly horrified presentiment that Vin had stopped because he knew his next words would be thick with emotion, possibly even the beginnings of tears, but wasn't quite sure what to do about it. With JD, who even after his recent birthday still seemed very young, he'd offer comfort of some sort, but he wasn't sure Vin would want or accept such from him, not from his 'little' brother. “Ya coulda died.” Vin still had his head turned away, but the words and self-recrimination in his voice were clear.

“You could've suffered that same fate Vin, and it was Ah who started us playing a game in so rash a place. The fault would have been mine if eithah of us were injured or,” Ezra gulped slightly before the next word, somewhat grateful now that Vin's head was turned, “worse.”

“Ya never woulda been up there if it weren't for me.” Vin's voice was as insistent as it was guilty, and a little annoyed too, Ezra thought, his back straightening a little at the sound.

“Ah started the entire affair with that business with Nettie's cake, and allowing you to take the blame,” he declared a little heatedly.

Vin finally turned his head back around, face sheepish. “Well...If I hadn't been teasin' ya about bein' her favorite, I reckon that might not a happened.” Ezra paused here, because well he had been annoyed by that, and Vin's claims that it meant he was entitled to a larger portion of pie, he hadn't actually been upset, as it was, frankly, true. Nettie's favorite out of the peacekeepers was Vin, without a doubt, but Ezra wasn't foolish enough to suppose that meant she didn't care for the rest of them.

He did sometimes worry that he was her least favorite, but as Vin had not alluded-Ezra shoved that thought down, where it belonged. Ezra was Mary's favorite, Vin was Nettie's, JD was Inez's, and there was nothing wrong with any of that. Trying to make light of the situation, not liking where it had gone, Ezra did his best to sound teasing and light, as he responded, “Ah'm not sure about that, Miz Nettie's wooden spoon is a formidable weapon that Ah would prefer to avoid at all possible turns.”

That got a wry snort out of Vin, and a mumble of, “Heck, I ain't gonna argue with that.” Before Ezra could answer Josiah was walking through the doorway, shutting the door behind him, and, Ezra saw with resignation, with the ruler in his hand. He felt Vin shift on the bench beside him as he tried not to wince at the sight. Josiah walked back and settled on the bed, setting the ruler to the side of him and fixing his gaze back on the two of them before he said anything.

“I understand that you boys are still young-you need chances to rough house, play games and jokes.” There was a period where Ezra would have been offended by the notion that he needed such childish things, but he had observed that the more he indulged the impulse to, to use Josiah's terms, 'play games and jokes' the more that he felt that same impulse. He had been vacillating on whether that impulse was something that should be nurtured or suppressed. This incident, Ezra supposed, meant that the latter was the answer he should lean towards, though he felt a small pang at the thought. As though he had read Ezra's mind, Mr. Sanchez looked at him firmly and said, “That's a perfectly natural thing,” before switching his penetrating stare back to both of them. “ _But_ the kind of risks you two took today just to have a little fun are plain unacceptable. The field by the big creek, the lot right out back here, those are the sorts of places you mess around like that in. Even chasing each other up and down the boardwalk, while it might not have endeared you to any of the shopkeepers, would have been a much better choice. I already had my worries about you two and being up on the roofs, but for the most part, you've been sensible. Today changed that. I think you both know how it could have ended.” Vin shifted again on the bench, and Ezra held his breath against the pronouncement he was certain was about to be handed down, “For the immediate future, except if it's part of peacekeeping business, I don't want either of you up on any of the roofs, you hear me?”

Ezra swallowed, his mind immediately going to Ivanhoe, and that he had to retrieve it, he _had_ to. Still, he told himself, taking a breath, protesting now would do no good for anyone, but if he waited until after this horrid episode was over Josiah's sympathy would be easier to win. Feeling Josiah's stare like it was a weight on him, he managed to get out a perfectly neutral and, he hoped, respectful, “Yes, sah.” Vin was silent next to him, and leaning back slightly, not wanting to turn and look at him, he peered at his brother out of the corner of his eye, noting that his face wasn't so much argumentative, as it was uncertain. 

"Yessir...but, how long is the 'immediate future'?” He said it quietly, and instead of being aggravated by the 'but', Josiah simply answered him, voice matter-of fact.

“I was thinking I'd talk to Chris when he gets back tomorrow and see what he has to say, decide between the two of us.” Vin looked like he was holding back a groan, and Ezra wasn't sure if it was because he was thinking of Mr. Larabee's likely reaction to their misadventure-it would undoubtedly be unpleasant-or the fact that the sentence would surely be lengthy indeed once said gentleman had put his word in. 

Ezra was suddenly profoundly grateful that it was not that particular older brother who had apprehended them at such mischief. Chris had only sp-disciplined him a few times, but each had been memorable. A punishment for this likely would have rivaled the dynamite escapade...of course, he thought, eyes moving to the seemingly harmless tool's resting place, there had been no ruler at hand then. “Now, I'm sure you both know that that is not the only part of your punishment, you've each earned a tanning. And,” he moved his hand to lay lightly over the ruler, “this particular message is going to need some reinforcement. I do  _not_ want to have a talk about anything like this ever again.” None of that had been in any question-from the second he'd seen Mr. Sanchez when he'd be on the roof, excepting the flash of time where he'd thought falling was imminent, Ezra had known what the final outcome would be. That didn't mean Josiah vocalizing it didn't make the pool of apprehension swirling inside him leap upwards in size, even as he gave the required affirmative. “Ezra, you're first. Vin, I want you to stand in the corner over there until it's your turn.” Josiah indicated with a hand, and Ezra heard the nearly silent sigh his brother let out, before he pushed himself to his feet and began dragging his feet that direction. Ezra knew he should be getting up and going to his guardian. That that was what the man would expect, and that it would certainly be the most dignified choice. Funnily enough, he found that his legs did not want to cooperate with the messages he was sending them. 

Obviously, his posterior was tired of paying the penalty for the asinine situations his brain got the rest of him into. Really, Ezra felt for it, and thought he should show some support in this trying time.

Alright, he simply had no desire to rise now that the time had come, but that hadn't sounded half bad. “Ezra, son, come here.” Hesitantly, Ezra dragged his eyes from his contemplation of his shoes up to Josiah's face. There was some understanding there, but there was also a hardness he wasn't used to. The man wasn't impatient, he was simply...implacable. There would be no getting out of this. That did not, however, mean that Ezra found himself any more eager to move. He opened his mouth to say something, though the exact nature of his statement had not yet been thought out, but Josiah's face darkened slightly and he snapped it shut again. “You had your time to say your piece, Ezra. I wouldn't recommend pushing me right now, young man.” Slowly, very slowly, his eyes moving from Mr. Sanchez to that hateful ruler, Ezra pushed himself to his feet, the bench scraping back on the wooden boards beneath them, an odd grating sound briefly filling the otherwise silent room. Ezra made himself take two steps towards Josiah, eyes still trained on the ruler, even as everything in him said he should be trying to bargain, to compromise, to find some sort of solution to this dreadful predicament that did not involve anyone's hindquarters being scorched. Possibly he could at least remove the ruler from the equation-flail in some way that knocked it behind the bed, Josiah couldn't fault him for that, and perhaps would forgo that portion of the punishment rather than go to the trouble of moving the bed to retrieve it.

Lamentably, he concluded this would be unlikely in the extreme, as he faltered in his journey, fretting over taking that final, finishing step towards Josiah, his breath loud in his ears. A sigh came from the preacher, and he flinched, suddenly ashamed of his cowardice, his hesitation, and found himself taking that last step forward before he realized it. His eldest brother's hand reached out and grasped his wrist, nearly high enough to be his hand, and squeezed lightly. It was only then that Ezra was able to lift his gaze, needing to see Josiah's face, to see that same solidness he'd been damning a moment ago when searching for a way out, that promise that when Josiah said something it was so. It stared back at him, out of his brother's face, that oath, and something else, something that Ezra couldn't quite name, but which even now he was grateful for. 

It didn't keep him from wishing that the man employed other methods of chastisement as he was unceremoniously tipped over his lap, a small 'oof' leaving him as his abdomen was pressed against Josiah's legs. One hand pressed into the rough homespun wool of Josiah's blanket, the other dangling down to the floor as an arm wrapped around his waist, securing him, and without further formalities the preacher's hand began to rise and fall, thundering down in a rapid fire barrage of smacks, the noise startling him nearly as much as the smart. Almost from the first Ezra's eyes widened, a strange mewling noise leaving him before he could clamp down on it. The swats were coming in the same flurry-like speed that he was used to from Josiah, but the force with which they were coming down was on par with the spanking Mr. Larabee had given him after the dynamite incident and it  _burned._ Eyes already stinging, he pushed his face down onto Josiah's bed. As the heavy slaps moved lower and the first treasonous tears attempted to push their way forward, the blanket absorbing them, Ezra found himself drawing in a deep breath the best that he could, the smell of the blanket-soap, sweat, wood,  _Josiah-_ far more comforting than he would have expected.

His head raising on a swat that clipped the top of his thigh, Ezra's eye happened to catch the ruler, laying in front of him like a inexorable promise, and a groan bubbled up from his gut. Clearly, he was never going to sit easily again.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Vin pressed his eyes closed, for all there was nothing but a wall in front of him, wishing he could do the same with his ears as he heard Ezra let out another choked gasp, tears he could almost swear he smelled the salt of thick in his voice. He'd seen both his younger brothers swatted before, and never thought much on it-a couple times when it was plain what Ezra's mouth, or JD's refusal to slow down and listen, were getting them into, the boys ignoring the obvious warning signs, Vin had smirked or even chuckled when it finally caught up to them. This was different. Between knowing he was going next and hearing his little brother almost crying, hurting when there was nothing Vin could do about it, it might even be worse than catching it himself.

His rear twinged at the reminder of his own tanning, and the tracker supposed he couldn't say it was _worse_ than that was likely to be, but it sure wasn't any better either. A loud snap of a smack had a sob bursting out of the gambler and Vin's guilt welled up again. Why'd he have to climb up to the clinic roof like that? Whatever Ezra might have said, none of this would have happened if he hadn't been so damned stupid. The sound of Josiah's hand falling had stopped, and instead the soft scritch of a callused hand rubbing back and forth on cloth filled the room. Vin tensed, knowing that for once that didn't mean it was over. “Ezra, son, tell me how old you are.” Having a feeling he knew _why_ Josiah was asking his little brother that, Vin had to swallow a surge of anger. That was too much, the kid was already crying! That was just plain mean!

There was a pause before his brother answered, Vin sure by the tone of it that Ezra knew why Josiah had asked too, his voice strained as he spoke around his tears, “Nineteen.” Vin sucked in a deep breath, whole body tensing against the need to rescue Ezra, hands clenching into fists, knowing it would probably only make things worse, but his heart was screaming that that wasn't right, that Josiah couldn't do that.

“Nineteen.” Vin braced himself, but instead of hearing the ruler fall after Josiah's rumble of agreement, there was a deep sigh from the older man, and then he spoke again, “That's how many swats I was going to give you with the ruler, and I imagine it's how many you've earned...but the Lord tells us to be merciful as well as just, and there is no mercy in that. So 10, half your age rounded up, and then it'll all be over and down with.”

Oh.  _Oh._ Vin wasn't sure if that had already been the plan, or if Josiah had changed his mind when he let out that sigh, but as a good chunk of his tension poured away, relieved both for his brother and for himself, he wondered if he should have expected it either way, that Josiah wouldn't be able to be that hard on them. 

It didn't mean that the first whack of the ruler didn't make a snapping sound that had Vin gritting his teeth, having a feeling that hurt a sight more than Nettie's spoon, his hindquarters tensing in anticipation. Josiah was taking his time between each fall of the ruler, landing it hard and then waiting. Vin knew he couldn't be dreading each whack more than Ezra was, but he still found himself wincing as they landed. The fourth one drew a strangled cry from Ezra, not a sob, but a shout, and he found himself gritting his teeth, part of him wishing Josiah would just hurry up and finish, so he wasn't standing here, hurting for his brother and knowing he was gonna be hurting in a much more personal way before too long, and part of him wanting him to do anything but finish, because he wasn't any to eager for his turn. Three more sharp whacks, each spaced out the same as the ones before, so Vin started to fill like he was going to crawl out of his skin, and then Josiah's deep voice started rumbling at his brother, “Are you going to be so careless with your safety again?”

It took a minute for Ezra to respond, his voice rough and ragged as he got the words out, “No, no, Ah won't.” 

“Good.” The last three came down lightening fast then, Ezra letting out a howl, and Vin couldn't help it, he had to look over his shoulder, had to see that his little brother would be alright, and sagged a little in relief as he that one of Josiah's hands was rubbing circles on Ezra's back and the other was resting gently on his head. “It's alright now, you just cry all you need, son...bet you scared yourself nearly as much as you scared me, huh?” Josiah's voice was soft and quiet, his words clearly intended just for Ezra, and Vin turned back to the corner, knowing he'd intruded enough. Eyes focused back on the wood of the wall, Vin tried to ignore the soft words and muffled crying coming from behind him, but it was hard. A few tears would have been one thing, but even knowing that it was over, that Josiah hadn't really hurt him, that he never would, it went against his instincts to do nothing, to just stand there and listen while Ezra cried. Finally, after what felt like years, the tears dried up, his brother's breathing settling back to normal. After a few more words he heard the sound of Ezra clambering to his feet and Josiah following after him, starting to lead him Vin's way. He rocked a bit on his heels realizing that he was another step closer to his own behind roasting, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not thinking it was a good idea to leave the corner until he was told to, Vin kept still and mum until Josiah's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Time for you and your brother to switch places, Vin.” Turning slowly, Vin nodded at Josiah, shuffling around him and Ezra. He tried to make eye contact with Ezra, but the younger boy's eyes were firmly trained on his shoes, Vin not certain if he was just embarrassed over crying or if he was mad at him now for getting him into trouble, whatever he'd said before. Shoulders slumping, and half wishing he dared make a break for the open doorway, and half knowing he more than had this coming to him, Vin slowly made his way over to stand besides Josiah's bed. He didn't have to wait long for the big man to come back, squeezing Vin's shoulder lightly as he passed him on his way to taking a seat on the bed. Josiah looked up at him, eyes examining him seriously, once he had himself settled, “You know why we're here, don't you Vin?”

Nodding, though he kind of thought they'd already covered that, Vin said, voice quiet, “Was foolish, put me an' Ezra in danger.” Josiah sighed and frowned then, and Vin wasn't sure why and didn't like it. What had he said wrong?

“No, son. You're in trouble for your own actions, just as Ezra was for his. For putting _yourself_ in danger needlessly. I won't ever punish either of you for the others mistakes. You understand?” Vin shrugged, not sure how to respond to that. Whatever Josiah said, he was older, and sure, Ezra didn't listen to him half the time, but he still knew the teenager looked up to him. Josiah was still looking at him though, eyes weighing on him heavy, and Vin figured he had to say something.

“I reckon so.” It came out strained, and a lot more like a question than Vin had intended. Josiah looked at him for a moment longer, then mumbled something that sounded a bit like, 'like banging your head on a brick wall', and Vin didn't know quite what to make of that either. Supposed maybe Josiah was calling him stubborn, but it wasn't a particularly nice way to say it. Still, when his older brother reached out and took a hold of his wrist, tugging him down over his lap, Vin let himself be pulled, sticking out his other hand to keep himself from flopping onto the bed as Josiah moved his hands to his shoulders, steadying him, and then wrapped an arm snug around his middle. Everything that had needed to be said had been said, and maybe a little extra, and so it wasn't exactly a surprise when the preacher's heavy hand started swatting down immediately. What _was_ a surprise, was how damn fast his hand moved, the sting barely felt in one spot before it was landing in another, and then another, but the swats were easily as hard as the slow, steady smacks Chris had doled out the two times Vin had found himself over the older man's knee. Even when he'd used his belt there had been a rhythm to it, so Vin had a good idea where and when the next smack was going to fall. Hell, he didn't know how Ezra dared keep getting himself in trouble with the man if this was what he had to look forward to!

Vin held himself still as best he could, not wanting to squirm around and make a fool of himself, but it was starting to feel like he'd sat down on a campfire by mistake, and as Josiah's hand traveled lower, swats glancing off the top of his thighs, his legs started jerking-not kicking, he wasn't a baby, but little twitches and shifts he just couldn't help. Not only did it burn like hellfire, but Josiah's hand just rained down every which way, so one smack would land high up and the next down where his leg met his backside, and quicker than Vin liked he was pressing his lips closed trying to keep sounds in. Only, then his eyes started watering and his nose got clogged up so he could hardly breathe through it, and he had to open his mouth, no matter what noise came out of it. Another minute and Vin had forgotten all about trying to keep quiet, hearing, but not paying attention to the gasps and whimpers that left him. The hand he had laying on the bed reached out blindly, searching for something to grasp hold of and finally landing on Josiah's pillow, squeezing into it like it held salvation.

That he knew the only reason Josiah was being this hard on him was because he'd scared the tarnation out of the man just made it worse. Knowing you deserved a whupping always made it worse.

When his brother's hand quit falling, moving to rub circles on his back instead, Vin thought for a moment that it was over, started to sag in relief, and then he heard it. The same damned question he'd asked Ezra, and how the hell had Vin forgotten, even for a second? “How old are you Vin?”

He had to swallow before he trusted himself to say it without sounding like a baby, muttering a reluctant, “Twenty-one,” as soon as he had the lump out of his throat.

“Twenty-one.” Josiah intoned it softly, and Vin was hit with a sudden fear that the man wouldn't show the same mercy to him as he had to Ezra, and he knew it was ridiculous the moment he thought it, was just plain stupid, but he couldn't get it out of his head, or keep his body from tensing with the thought.

There was no way, no way, but the few seconds that had passed since the number had left Josiah's lips seemed to stretch on forever....

“Your crime was no greater and you deserve no less mercy than your brother. Eleven, and then we're done.” Josiah was still rubbing circles on his back as he finished talking, Vin knowing he was going to start again when his hand stilled and slid to wrap around his middle, and he had no time for either relief or guilt before the first smack thundered down and had him squawking out a yelp, Josiah's pillow getting mangled as he squeezed it. The second seemed to take forever to land, Vin's ragged breathing seeming far too loud to his own ears as he waited, not sure if he was grateful for the time between swats or not, and it jolted him when it landed, a deep, burning, smack that pushed tears from his eyes. He closed his eyes tight and tried to breath through the rain of, slow, solid, swats, each stripe trying to draw out more yelps to match the first, and worse, sobs, to prove that his eyes were far past watering. Four left now, and Josiah started talking, Vin's ears taking a second to get his meaning, “I want no more foolishly putting yourself in danger, Vin, you understand me?”

“Yessir,” he gasped it out, voice thick with regret and tears, and immediately the ruler snapped down like a rattler striking, like lightening, one after the other, and Vin didn't even bother trying to stop the blubbering he could hear coming from himself, past caring. Josiah tossed the ruler away, the hateful thing landing on the floor with a clatter, and the same hand that had just been smacking him was again rubbing at his back.

“You're alright now...just cry as long as you need to, brother 'Siah is right here...”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Buck looked at the back of the scrawny tracker's head, half amused from the fact that there wasn't no way the boy was asleep, slumped in a chair on the edge of the boardwalk with his feet up on the hitching rail(his ass, Buck saw with a muffled snort, was hanging most of the way off the chair, though he certainly didn't blame him for that), no matter that his hat was pulled down over his eyes, and half exasperated by the story he'd heard when they rode back into town. Knowing it had been dealt with-and judging by the expression on Chris's face when Josiah was done with the story, might just be dealt with again, a good telling off at the least- and the boys were safe, the exhausted man had taken himself off to his bed for a few hours. Didn't mean that he wasn't going to have his say now, no matter how good at playing possum Junior was. He'd walked past the supposedly sleeping Tanner on his way into the saloon, deciding to let sleeping dogs lie until he'd at least finished a plate of Inez's enchiladas, asking the beautiful bar manager if Ezra had been down yet today, and not at all surprised to learn that the gambler had yet to show his face. Though with Ezra, he might _actually_ have been sleeping, that boy could sleep 'til the cows came home.

Coming to lean up against the rail Buck contemplated knocking Vin's feet right off, and if the boy had been sitting properly in the chair, not hanging half off of it, he might've, but he could see that making him go crashing down, and the last thing the kid needed was a sore back on top of a sore backside.

Fixing his gaze on this little brother who at times seemed steadier than Buck, and at others showed his youth with a wild abandon that seemed to come out of nowhere, the man just looked, waiting for a reaction. That Vin knew he was there, he never doubted. If it were JD he'd be spilling his guts-or possibly trying to explain why whatever it was couldn't possibly be his fault-by now. Vin though, he could last even longer than Ezra before he said a word(Buck had timed it once, when Josiah had been calmly waiting for a confession of something, but not actually telling Ezra he knew, just looking at the boy, asking him casually about his day and so on. It had been a good half hour before the kid finally cracked), but it wasn't speaking Buck was looking for anyway. Now, once Vin shifted good, moved his legs or tipped his hat up and down, that's when Buck would know he'd gotten to him and it was time to speak up.

Sure enough, three or four minutes later, Vin shifted sideways a bit, flexing and stretching his legs as he did so, and Buck opened his mouth, saying, “So, Junior, hear we had a bit of excitement yesterday?” Nothing, and Buck said quietly, “Vin, you ain't that good at playin' possum, boy.”

A muffled curse, probably in response to the 'boy', brought a hint of a smile to Buck's face, though he wiped it away as Vin brought up a hand and tipped his hat back so he could look at him. “Hey, Bucklin.”

“Hey, yourself. You know, if the folks in this town wanna see a high flyin' act, they can go to the circus. Ain't no need for you boys to put one on yourselves.” His words were joking, but Buck made sure there was a layer of seriousness underneath for Vin to hear. A hint of a blush rose on his cheeks, the boy raising a hand to scrub at the hair just above his temple as he pulled his legs down one at a time from the hitching rail. Embarrassed or not, he still made sure he didn't thump down in his seat, gently sliding back in a way that had Buck nodding in satisfaction. Josiah had done a thorough job, and it served the boy right, too.

“Know it was stupid.”

Buck nodded again, not mincing words, “Damn right it was. We're in enough danger from bank robbers and cattle rustlers, and idiots like Royal that there just ain't no need to go courtin' anymore. If this job ain't excitin' enough for ya, I can't think of one that would be.” Vin looked like he didn't know what to say to that, and then was shaking his head.

“Job's plenty excitin'.” There was a moment where neither of them did anything, and then Vin shrugged, and after a second Buck turned so he could drop into the chair next to him.

“You scared me, Junior, you and Hoss, scared me good just hearin' about it. Ain't got so many brothers I can afford to lose one or two.” Even after this, Buck couldn't, or wouldn't, let himself imagine what it would've been like to come back into town, two of his brothers...Buck swallowed, throat thick. He knew that pain, and wanted nothing to do with it.

“Learned m'lesson, Buck. Promise.” Junior's head was tilted down, but his eyes were slanting over to Buck, earnest and a little wary at the same time, and Buck decided that he'd said enough, gotten his point across and he nodded.

“Good. I'm gonna hold you to that, Vin.”

“Said I promised,” his long haired little brother grumbled, but Buck ignored it, reaching out and tugging lightly at a clump of hair dangling in easy reach.

“Anything else exciting happen while we were gone? Pretty ladies I'd want to get acquainted with come in on the stage?”

Batting his hand away with an annoyed look, Vin shook his head, “Ya were only gone four days, Bucklin, only ladies around already got yer number.”

“Got it, and love it,” Buck said with a wink, getting the amused eye roll he'd been looking for out of Vin, slumping down into the chair and not figuring on moving for awhile.

 


	7. Chapter 7

*.*.*.*.*

Ezra had slept in until even the thick curtains he drew over his windows each night could no longer block out the edges of the sun, sneaking in like knives through the tiny gaps between the fabric and the frame to stab into his his eyes however tightly he clasped them closed. Then, having no desire to actually rise and face the world, he had laid there in the mostly dark, cheek pressed into his pillow for nearly another hour. Restlessness started to set in then, his mind worrying at how the two brothers he hadn't seen yet, due to be back this afternoon, would react to hearing about Mr. Tanner's and his escapade about the town. Particularly Mr. Larabee. Not that he relished appeasing an upset Buck, but...

Now, standing and looking out his window at the traitorous sun, Ezra felt no more ready than he had before he'd finally dragged himself from his bed. Chris's temper was something he had no qualms about admitting, to his own person at the least, he found daunting.

Worse though, was when the man looked at him with disappointment so clear in his eyes. Nothing could make him feel so wanting.

That it had been he who initiated the rooftop game of tag, if not the entire course of events, his conduct that had led to that harrowing near miss, to Vin nearly...Ezra shuddered, unable to prevent it, and then stepped back from the window, not wanting anyone to witness such a weakness. Then he felt horridly foolish, good Lord, who would be staring up so avidly at his window?

Drifting closer to the door, his growling stomach reminded him that he couldn't simply remain concealed in his room for the remainder of the day, even if he hadn't already grown weary of his own company. Ezra never had been a solitary creature, and this tendency had only increased since gaining companions whose company he esteemed.

He couldn't hinder himself from envisaging both Chris and Buck, seated at a table down in the saloon as Ezra reached the bottom of the stairs. Waiting for him or not, they would turn towards him when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and Ezra would have no choice but to join them if they requested it. Amending things with Mr. Wilmington would not be such a hardship, though he could be quite blunt in his displeasure, Buck never held a grudge. Mr. Larabee...

Once or twice, his imaginative powers betraying him, his mind had shown him Chris turning away even as Buck beckoned him over, the man standing, back turned to Ezra, and walking away from him without a word or a look. Ezra wasn't a fool, realized that his brother would not likely behave that way-Chris was not a man who walked away from confrontation-but when the image played itself out so flawlessly, as though he were viewing a play staring himself, it was hard to spur it away.

Perhaps, Ezra thought sardonically, he was some sort of emotional sadist, his mind conjuring up the scenario most likely to cause him discomfort, regardless of its basis in reality.

To make matters worse, Ezra was still no closer to figuring out how to get his copy of Ivanhoe back. Appealing to Mr. Sanchez was a prospect he did not want to approach yet, though if another did not appear he would hold onto that option as a contingency. He dared not retrieve it himself, disregarding Josiah's direct orders had always gone poorly for him and his derriere was in no condition to reap the consequences. Nonetheless, he did hold that the route he used to ascend the roof, from the window that overlooked the alley, was quite dependable, with numerous handholds available in the short climb.

His stomach rumbling again, reminding him that he was already too late for breakfast, either in the saloon or in the restaurant, got the young gambler moving towards his door, this time actually breaching the hallway, and gaining the top of the stairs before his hesitation nearly stopped him. A steadying breath prevented that, and Ezra stepped onto the saloon's main floor without a whisper of vacillation. A laugh nearly escaped him after a glance around the room, Ezra realizing he actually felt nonplussed at not seeing either of his older brothers and the utter illogicality of that. Another look did reveal Vin's lanky body at a table around the corner of the bar, away from the small afternoon crowd, his brother sitting forward in his chair as he all but inhaled the meal sat in front of him. Shifting a bit as he was reminded of his own soreness, Ezra knew perfectly well that the reason Vin wasn't slouched as he usually was had little to do with being able to lean over his plate-Vin was able to slouch and lean over his plate at the same time, a position that had to be more awkward than his brother claimed-but in an effort to keep his weight off the sorest parts of his anatomy.

Ezra was unsure for a moment whether he was actually going to join Mr. Tanner at his table, he may, perhaps, have wanted to be alone with his chosen seat far away from the seven's usual table. Truly, if Ezra were able to select his ideal eating place it would be standing at the bar, but at the same time he could imagine the snickers of those who had been on the street for their rather mad display of daring behavior. Ezra was certain that Mr. Sanchez's reaction, and Nathan's for that matter, had left little confusion over the final act of the performance, and had no wish to give anyone an excuse to remark on his indignity. Before he had finalized his decision, potential discomfiture versus guaranteed discomfort, Vin must have sensed his gaze, his head raising and swiveling in Ezra's direction, grinning just a little when he saw him and motioning him over with one hand. Once Ezra had begun his trek that way, navigating around several tables absent of occupants, and one where old man Kelley was already quietly warbling a ditty with rather inappropriate lyrics-If Inez heard him she'd have him out on his ear. Ezra unfeignedly hoped that whoever had penned the melody only had hypothetical knowledge of that part of a cow's anatomy-Vin went right back to eating, shoving what looked like steak and potatoes into his mouth as though his plate would disappear if he looked away for too long. Slipping gingerly into the chair, doing his best to hold his weight off the seat, he greeted Vin with a quiet, “Good afternoon, Mr. Tannah.”

“Hey, Ez. Ya slept more a the day away than usual.”

“Ah believe all the, uh, exercise, so to speak, from yestahday fatigued me.” Vin gave him a look that said, 'suuure,' as clearly as if he'd said the word aloud and went back to eating, though Ezra could tell he was still observing him. Pretending he didn't notice, he looked over towards the bar again, hoping to get Inez's or one of the bar girls' attention. He knew he was famished when observing the messiest of his brother's eating habits didn't drive his appetite away. He couldn't locate Inez behind the bar, and while Miss Molly waved at him when he raised a hand to get her attention, she then went right back to flirting with a rather sturdy looking miner. He flexed, Miss Molly laughed and put her hand on his bicep just long enough to squeeze, and then pulled it away with a blush, laughing again and leaning over so there was no doubt the gentleman was able to enjoy the view, and Ezra grimaced and looked away. That was not what he wanted to see before he partook of his first meal of the day. Simon was busy handling a rowdy group of cowboys that even from here smelled as though they'd been on the trail for several days before finding their way to the saloon. Resigning himself to the fact that he'd have to venture into the kitchen to find Inez if he wanted to order, and not entirely sure he wanted too even if she had already had her say last night, Ezra sat there, eyes wandering around the room as Vin kept up a steady inhalation of his now mostly gone lunch.

“Ain't ya hungry?” Looking back to his brother, Ezra opened his mouth to inform him he was slightly peckish when his stomach made a noise Maude would have called impolite and Vin grinned at him. “Good answer.”

“Ah would not be averse to a meal, but have been unable to communicate such to the server.” Now Vin was looking at him as though  _ he _ were the one singing the increasingly loud and vulgar song about the cow and the cowboy.

“So? Go tell Inez you're hungry, she'll get ya a plate.”

Realizing that Vin would only focus on him more if he simply sat there after his hunger was so obviously announced, Ezra pushed himself to his feet with an internal sigh, saying, “You are right of course, Ah suppose Ah was merely being slothful.”

“Reckon that's a regular thing with ya,” Vin teased, Ezra deciding not to dignify that with a response as he strode off for the kitchen. He slowed as he got closer, not so much reluctant to see Inez as he was to invade her private sanctum. Except for their Wednesday night dinners or times when Inez had them carry plates back for her or the like the kitchen was not a place Ezra had often ventured to since Inez had staked her claim. Reaching the swinging door he rapped on it to announce his appearance and pushed it open enough to step just inside the doorway.

“Inez?”

The woman was busy at the stove, several pots and pans sizzling at once, but she looked up at Ezra long enough to smile and say, “Hello, querido,” before the large cast iron pan she was stirring strips of meat in some sort of savory smelling sauce around in called her attention, sizzling loudly, this apparently the signal for her to dump a mound of sliced onions, peppers, and garlic in with the meat, “you are just in time. Sit, sit.” She motioned one handed, still stirring the mixture, to the table that was shoved against the side wall out of the way, a few of the chairs not stacked to the side, but along the front to be used. “I'm glad you are not so quisquilloso as your brother, _you_ will like this.”

Relaxing, as it was clear Inez was not going to bring up yesterday, Ezra moved over to the table, leaning one hip against it rather than seating himself, “Ah had noticed Vin eating his usual meat and potatoes, and that the delectable scent coming from this room did not match his simple fare-though Ah am sure it was delicious,” he hastened to add, not wanting to slight the fiery woman, who merely shook her head as she began to dish rice and the meat and vegetable mixture onto his plate.

“That boy...no wonder he is so skinny,” as though it would somehow feed Vin through osmosis Inez added another scoop of food to the top of Ezra's plate then held it out for him, “Here, go eat and tell me what you think. Mi abuela's recipe, with some extras.”

Breathing in the scent as he took the plate, not entirely sure what Inez was feeding him, but with every confidence that it would be delicious, suddenly the morning seemed rather brighter. “Ah can already assure you that every bite will be bettah than the last, and that your grandmother would feel her name lived up to.”

Inez looked at him with indulgent amusement, and Ezra felt a bit embarrassed at his overzealous declaration, but didn't show it, even when Inez murmured, “Nino dulce,” and patted his arm, “Now, go eat, before it gets cold.” Taking his cue, Ezra thanked her and left the kitchen, making his way across the rough wooden floor to the table that Vin was still sitting at, though his plate had been emptied and pushed back. The tracker was leaning back in his chair so that the two front legs hovered above the ground, a content expression on his face as Ezra settled across from him. 

“Told ya.” It was all Vin said, but, as often with the tracker, there was a wealth of meaning in those two words, Ezra realizing that somewhere during his absence Vin had deduced that it had been trepidation more than indolence that had made him reluctant to enter Inez's domain.

Not wanting to acknowledge or discuss that, certainly not while he was eating his morning, or rather, afternoon, repast, Ezra played it off casually as he picked up his fork, “Yes, it certainly was a much simplah and quickah way to obtain a plate. Inez was just completing this delicious concoction when Ah entered, and Miss Molly is still conversing with her gentleman friend, placing orders far from her mind.”

“Uh-huh.” Vin's smile was knowing, and hiding a slight scowl Ezra turned his attention to the meal he intended to consume in its entirety. He had had little appetite last night, had retreated to his room as soon as Josiah had allowed it, and his stomach was clearly announcing its displeasure as it gurgled again. He had only gotten a few bites in when a hand snaked over and snatched a tender bit of beef off his plate, Ezra making an outraged noise and swiping at Vin's hand. The older boy merely laughed, tipping his head back and dropping the meat into his mouth like he was a baby bird swallowing a dangling worm.

“Mistah Tannah! Kindly keep your hands away from mah meal!”

“I'm a growin' boy.”

“Careful,” Ezra snarked, “that meat touched vegetables besides potatoes and onions, the shock to your system might render you in need of Mistah Jackson's tending.”

“Heck, I eat more green stuff here than I ever did before,” Vin groused, “'Tween Nettie an' Nathan, I'm turnin' inta a rabbit.”

“Ah'm sure if you did JD would be happy to keep you as a pet. You could be something of a good luck charm, the lad could rub your feet before jobs.” Ezra's smile was studiously innocent as Vin rolled his eyes at him and snorted.

“Ye're plain cracked.”

“Ah take umbrage to such a disparaging remark from someone who elects to sleep in a wagon when an alternative is readily available.” Ezra pointed his fork at Vin for emphasis, and then speared a small cluster of onions and peppers, popping it into his mouth.

“Don't be talkin' 'bout my house.”

Ezra chose not to respond to this, detecting a small amount of real annoyance in Vin's voice, instead smirking and then attending to his meal before it cooled. Inez hadn't told him the name of this dish, but it was very good and rather filling. As he neared the end of his plate, appetite satisfied, Vin reached over to snag another piece of meat and this time Ezra's hand moved fast enough to make contact, Vin jerking back his slapped fingers without giving up his prize. He chewed and swallowed even as he shook out his hand, giving Ezra an injured look that he ignored entirely. Then, after a moment and a final bite, he pushed his mostly empty plate over to his brother, Vin happily picking out the last few chunks of meat with his fingers, brushing off any peppers that happened to be attached. “Inez will be delighted to know that your culinary tastes are expanding so.” 

“Ain't never been picky about meat.” Vin leaned back in his seat as Ezra began contemplating what he was going to do with the rest of his day. He had jailhouse duty that evening, but that was ages away and, unless they acquired a prisoner in the meantime would be spent with nothing more taxing to do than play solitaire, or if Mr. Dunne joined him, listen to a rehashing of his day rife with embellishments. A pleasant enough way to spend an evening until he was released to find a proper game, but with little to do in the meantime. Though, a quick look at his watch had him realizing that more of the day had passed then he had been aware of while eating, and it would soon be time for him to present himself for lessons at the church. Perhaps he would approach the subject of Ivanhoe with Josiah then, rather than waiting for a more desperate juncture, as he could not imagine where else he would find assistance. “Ya run inta Chris yet?”

Ezra was startled out of his thoughts, his surprise stopping him from masking the wince that came with the idea. Not, he thought, as he shook his head under Vin's knowing gaze, that it would have worked anyway. “No, Mistah Larabee and Ah have not crossed paths yet today, and Ah would not mind a significant delay before that event takes place. When did he and Mr. Wilmington arrive back in our fair town?”

“Early. Was barely outta m'wagon an' Chris wanted t' talk.” Vin grimaced and Ezra felt his heart sink. If Vin's encounter with Chris had gone badly, Ezra could only imagine that his own would be worse.

“Ah sympathize with such an unfortunate meeting so soon after you awoke.”

“Eh.” Vin waved a hand in the air as though dismissing this, “Weren't so bad. We scared 'im is all. Just don't smart off, he ain't in the mood.”

Ezra smirked slightly, not wanting his increasing nervousness to show, “Ah find that holding mahself to your advice often proves difficult when Ah am in Chris's presence. Mah tongue sometimes seems to take on a life of its own.”

“Yeah, well, put a harness on it.” Vin's tone held an order in it, and Ezra's smirk developed an annoyed tinge to it. It wasn't that his elder brother's advice wasn't appreciated, but the gambler had always chafed under direct orders-inevitably the urge to do the exact opposite would overtake him. Deciding to ignore this last statement, in the hope that the exact converse of it would not be the final result, Ezra twisted the topic slightly.

“Perhaps a pact between the two of us to avoid such endeavors or temptations in our forthcoming years would go some length in securing Mistah Larabee's conciliation?” Vin cocked his head at him, eyes squinting as he deciphered and considered Ezra's words. Ezra fought the urge to blush, supposing that wanting to create a pact between them made him seem about Josh Potter's age.

“So ya think that us promisin' each other not t' be so dang foolish again, an' ya tellin' Chris about it, will butter him up a bit?”

“Not exactly,” Ezra protested, not liking the way that sounded at all once Vin had rephrased it, “Ah, well,” but before he could carry on, Vin, his lips tugging a bit at the corners, though his eyes were somewhat solemn, broke in, shoving his hand across the table for Ezra to shake.

“Reckon that's somethin' we oughta do anyway.” Relieved, because Vin _did_ understand, Ezra straightened and clasped his hand in Vin's, the tracker giving it a solid pump, as he said, “I swear never t' run 'round the roofs like a damned ninny again,” with every aspect of seriousness.

Ezra pumped Vin's back, rejoining with, “Likewise, Ah will prevent mahself from such ninny-like carrying ons when elevated above ground height,” face carefully held in a mask of solemnity to match his brother's. Reclaiming their hands the two grinned at each other, it only the undercurrent of truth in their promise, the knowledge that each had meant it utterly, that kept them from giggling like schoolboys. Speaking of which, Ezra pulled his watch out of his vest pocket and grimaced slightly at seeing the time. If he didn't leave presently, he would be late, which did not seem wise so soon after yesterdays events. “Ah hate to draw our meeting to a close, mah friend, but Ah will shortly be late for mah afternoon appointment with Mistah Sanchez if Ah do not take mah leave.”

“See ya, Ez.” Slumping down even more in his chair Vin nodded his head at Ezra, who somewhat reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. It seemed peculiar to simply continue with his usual routine somehow, a feeling almost, but not quite like anticipation. As he pushed open the batwing doors and stepped out into the dry day, dust rising off the boardwalk as his boots thudded along it, Ezra sighed. He was not used to being unable to find language to express himself, one of the gifts of having such an extensive vocabulary at his disposal. He found he did not care for it. Pasting a charming smile on his face for the benefit of any passers by-appearances were, perhaps not _everything_ , but still vital-Ezra was just to the edge of the boardwalk, where the road curved towards the end of town past the grocer's and about to start across to the church when he heard a quiet, yet demanding, call of his name. Chris. For a split second, foot hovering mid-air above the pitted dirt road, Ezra considered simply walking on, behaving as though he honestly had not heard him, but dismissed the thought as foolhardy at best, grudgingly turning back towards the man who was both older brother and commander of their little force. Ezra tipped his hat to Mr. Larabee, who was standing in the doorway to the grocers, his lean body seeming large in the rectangular frame.

“Welcome back, Mistah Larabee. Ah trust your journey was completed without any unusual tribulations?”

“Went fine. Wish things had gone as well here.” Swallowing at the words, Ezra found his collar seemed to have shrunk, his left hand twitching up slightly, as though to tug at it before he forced it still.

“Yes, well-quite.” Feeling awkward in a way that the high emotions of yesterday had forestalled, Ezra felt his fingertips start to rub together and swiftly halted them, wishing this conversation had happened at a time when he had his cards at the ready, both words and confidence seeming to flow from them, or more logically, their use.

On reconsideration, Ezra thought, surveying Chris's face as he took two large steps forward so that he was square in front of Ezra, perhaps it was better that his cards were securely tucked away in his pocket, as he was not sure that the older man would react at all genially to Ezra shuffling as he attempted to speak with him. No, on contemplating the matter further, Ezra was positively sure that Chris would not be satisfied unless he had his unmitigated attention. “That all you have to say to me?”

Ezra swallowed around the lump in his throat, and managed to force out a, “No sah,” eyes studying Chris closely for his reaction, “Ah can perceive that you are extremely displeased with mah ill-considered and senseless actions, and for the jeopardy Vin and Ah placed ourselves in.” Chris continued to stare down at him for a long moment, Ezra biting his tongue to keep it from performing its usual rebellious action at these critical junctions.

“I am.” Ezra swallowed again, not able to hide it as his adam's apple bobbed, and to his relief his brother's face softened, just enough for him to discern the change. Chris's hand moved to cup the back of his head right above his neck, surprising him and making him sincerely hope no one was watching, “Already told you once, we ain't losing you to something like that. I don't like having to say it again.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Ezra nodded. Chris seemed to be waiting for more, his face expectant, and he finally hazarded, “There will be no repeat performances, Chris, Ah swear to that.”

“Sure as hell better not be.” Chris scowled slightly as he said it, but there was amusement in his eyes as well, and Ezra felt the nervous tension drain out of him, replaced with warmth. His brother's hand squeezed lightly where it rested, then dropped back to his side. “Go on then, Josiah's waiting.”

A swift glance across the street showed Josiah hovering just outside the doorway of the church, ostensibly not looking at them, but some sort of imperfection in the outer wall, a fond smile pushing at the corners of Ezra's lips even as he rolled his eyes. He looked back at Chris, not sure if they had said all that needed to be said, but knowing it was enough for now. “Ah shall see you later on, at the saloon perhaps?”

“'Course,” Chris grinned one of his sly grins at him, “Actually left the saloon in Richmond with money in my wallet-wasn't natural.” Ezra laughed aloud and Chris's grin widened slightly as he jerked his head towards the church, “Go on now, get before you're late.” With a quick two finger salute Ezra did just that, checking to see he wouldn't be run down by any approaching carriages and strolling across the street towards where Mr. Sanchez was no longer bothering to pretend that he wasn't waiting for him.

 


End file.
